- Give away 99% of wealth to charities. (Alternate choice for ladies: let's give away 75%, because that’s how much we’re paid on the dollar relative to dudes anyway).
- Limit Postmates usage to the golden ratio: three orders for every two housemates, per 24hr period. This should sufficiently cover up to two hungover brunches plus one really great, shared pizza linner. (Two brunches graciously allows one for each human, pending previous night’s adventures and subsequent wake-up time).
- Don’t date a co-worker at your start-up with the open office floor plan, particularly if their desk is within line of sight. Just don’t fucking do it. (Pro tip: date your roommates’s co-workers).
- Stop cheating at dinner parties by bringing burrata and a baguette. God sees your Bi-Rite bag and knows you didn’t do shit.
- Practice mindfulness, particularly in on-line dating. Think about your internal monologue as you swipe left and right and mostly (dear god , mostly) left left left: cute, gay, that’s not a real tiger, are you wearing a hat because you’re bald, fuck did I just swipe right because that glass of rosé looks delish? Be aware of these thoughts, acknowledge them, let them drift away like summer fog rolling into Dolores at dusk.
- Have less brunch-friends, more brunch.
- Spend more time looking at anything other than your phone: the world around you, the person in front of you, maybe deep into the soul of Karl the Fog. The other is irrelevant. Just get that glowing orb out of your face. (Is modernity the physical manifestation of “Eleanor Rigby”? It feels so).
- Don’t eat crackers in bed — your parents were right about this (and perhaps only this). I know it’s not SF-specific, but it’s important, dammit.
- Don’t forget to leave the city. Last year I had a friend who looked me dead in the eye and said: I haven’t left the Mission in 7 months. Don’t let this be you. We are not New Yorkers! We leave this damn island.
- Last but not least (and this one’s real), give back! Maybe you’ve called San Francisco home for 6 months or 6 years, but think of all it’s given you: late night pizzas at Golden Boy, bad decisions at DNA Lounge, a literal treasure chest of festive festival accoutrements, hazy adventures discovering buffalo and windmills in Golden Gate Park, countless sunny days chasing after truffle man and letting the afternoon melt away. What can you do in return? Find something you love, and share it with this lovely city. Teach kiddies to write at 826 Valencia. Play with puppies at the SPCA. Be nice to people who deserve it. Draw something! Make something. Output.
I recently purchased this floppy turtle-looking device from my favorite hippie spa* in the city, Earthbody. It is an oversized, oddly-colored shoulder wrap that you warm up in the microwave and wear like a little turtle shell. It has some lavender and peppermint to it, and feels like a good hug from someone you don't want to punch.
It also has some weight to it, which is really nice if you're hunched over a computer all day; it will force your shoulders down to a more natural position.
Review of Spa Comforts Should Wrap: 10/10, especially at that $19 price point.
Were I writing my senior thesis today, it would most certainly be on the subtext of the ellipsis in interweb dating. Unrelated, but totally damn related, if you can't spell your favorite genre then...
It's raining, which means it's time for the inaugural edition of Andrea Explains It All - a blog that may cover any combination of topics including love in the time of the Internet, #startuplife, California, and quick tips & tricks on how to make your OCD work for you. Maybe it will be a modern advice column. Maybe I'll teach you how to lean the fuck in. I will probably write about how much I love some new overpriced moisturizer that makes me looks like I never discovered vodka.
Today we begin with something simple; today, we're listening to "Twilight Driving" by Methyl Ethel and reliving unhealthy relationships via a digital trail of death and destruction. You?